


On Guard

by DRHPaints



Series: Me? Horny for a Murderer? Never. [7]
Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, Conan O'Brien - Fandom, Conan O'Brien RPF, Doc Now - Fandom, Documentary Now - Fandom, Documentary Now! (TV 2015), Late Night Host RPF, The Eye Doesn't Lie, US Comedians RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Guards, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, M/M, Masturbation, Power Dynamics, Prison, Prison Sex, Rimming, Sad Ending, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28947450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Conan despises working as a guard at the Neal Unit prison in Texas. But when the sultry, smirking inmate Robbie Wheadlan propositions him in hopes of special treatment, Conan discovers the job may have some unexpected benefits. Launching into a forbidden union, neither is prepared for how the presence of the other will affect their lives.
Relationships: Conan O'Brien/Robbie Wheadlan
Series: Me? Horny for a Murderer? Never. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957354
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [damn_conan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damn_conan/gifts).



> There are references in this fic to previous installments in this series, but it is not necessary to read them in order to enjoy this one.

Tucking his orange hair under the peaked cap, Conan examined himself in the mirror with a defeated sigh. Large hands smoothing over the front of his uniform, Conan’s sharp jaw cemented with resolve before he flicked off the bathroom light, scooped up his keys, and headed out the door.

As he drove his ancient Ford Taurus toward the scattered campus of the Neal Unit, Conan wondered how he, a high-strung guy from an upper-middle class family in Massachusetts, came to be a guard at a prison in Amarillo, Texas, of all places.

Of course, Conan remembered, in truth. Recalled moving down with his girlfriend at the time, her wanting to be close to relatives, him not particularly attached to the Northeast. When he heard the prison was hiring, Conan applied because it seemed...logical. Reasonable. Good hours. Nice pay. She thought the outfit was sexy… But, after they broke up and Conan found himself abandoned in a strange state with no friends and little funds, even though he realized early on the job didn’t particularly suit him, searching for alternatives proved fruitless.

Pulling into the parking lot, Conan’s knuckles whitened over the steering wheel as he told himself to breathe. Relax. Project confidence.

Without fail, he knew how the day would go. The inmates would mock his accent. His freckles. Anything else they could latch onto as a perceived weakness, hoping to wear down the crumbling hill of Conan’s resolve as he attempted to enact discipline.

Conan submitted his lunch bag for inspection as he entered, smiling warmly at the elder Debra who worked the front desk and making a crack about his pasty skin sizzling from the unforgiving sun. Debra laughed uproariously, she always did no matter how silly or tired his humor, and with an added dollop of confidence, Conan silently thanked her as he walked into the staff room to secure his items before hitting the floor.

“Lockdown today.” Fellow guard Martins grunted at him from the bench as Conan placed his lunch in the fridge. “They want you shaking down the G4’s.”

Conan swallowed hard. G4’s were the most violent offenders within the Neal Unit population. ‘Good behavior’ held no meaning to these men, as no action could have the slightest effect on shortening their usually interminable sentences. As a result, they could be merciless, and Conan’s tongue darted over his thin lips in apprehension. “Oh...okay. Thanks. Did...did they get their lunch yet?”

Not thrilled at the prospect of dealing with a bunch of rowdy, cooped up inmates who were also hungry, Conan’s slender frame unwound a tad when Martins nodded. “Yup. Johnnie bags all doled out. They should be chowin’ down now.”

“Right.” Sizable hands reflexively checking his belt to ensure every item was in place, Conan bobbed his head. “Thanks. Sounds good.”

Big boots clopping over the concrete, Conan told himself to stand up straight. Though skinny, he unfurled to his full towering height, but as Conan neared the G4 block, laughter and raucous whoops floating down the corridor, he knew intimidation on his part would be hopeless.

Luckily the first cell on his circuit held an old timer, Giles, docile and silent as he shuffled to the back and watched Conan’s sizable gloved hands rifle through his belongings with pouched, weary eyes. Coming up empty, Conan thanked Giles, chiding himself as he slid the bars shut for his irrepressible need to be polite before moving down the line.

Muscular legs spread wide and slumped down in his bunk, Robbie’s cobalt eyes flashed open at the sound of a key jingling in the lock. “Alright, Wheadlan.” Clearing his throat and doing what he could to project his reedy voice, Conan tried to push the tales he heard from the other guards about Robbie from his mind as he hesitantly grasped the bars. “Cell toss. Stand at the back. Arms at your side.”

“No problem.” Rocking to his feet with a sigh, even with the mere three steps Robbie took to perch himself beneath the minuscule window of his cell, he strutted. In his year at the prison, Conan noticed Robbie always strutted. Everywhere. Going down the halls. Through the chow line. Hell, even if he was being marched off to solitary. It seemed no matter what the situation, Robbie Wheadlan’s confidence knew no bounds, and the concept left Conan boggled.

Firm arms crossed and leaning against the wall, the heat of Robbie’s piercing sapphire gaze followed Conan around the cramped room as his long fingers cautiously dug through his meager collection of items. Conan stumbled upon a cigar box filled with photos, letters. Many prisoners possessed a similar treasure, and in Conan’s experience, each guard decided within themselves exactly what constituted contraband and what didn’t. Though technically the men weren’t allowed to have anything of a pornographic nature, Conan could never be so cruel as to deny them the simple pleasure of a dirty picture, not seeing the harm as long as they depicted consensual adult activities.

Conan flicked through quickly, several polaroids of a curvaceous ebony haired woman within, before he stumbled upon one of a man, lip bitten and expression sultry as he wrapped a hand around a large erection for the camera’s, and presumably Robbie’s, benefit.

“See somethin’ you like?” Startled by his thick Texan drawl, Conan looked up to see Robbie’s knowing smirk, dark eyebrows dancing over his high forehead.

Saying nothing, Conan replaced the box with a blush and stripped Robbie’s bed, edging around the mattress and frowning when his fingers discovered an irregularity in the lining. “What’s this?”

Robbie’s sculpted jaw set and his deep blue eyes iced over as Conan held out a plastic bag containing half a dozen joints in his palm. “Nothin’.”

Conan sighed and shook his head, reaching in his back pocket for his notepad. “Alright, Wheadlan. You know the drill. That’s solitary. Two days for contraband.”

“Aw, come on, man. Just…” Pleading, Robbie took a step forward, then thought better and retreated when Conan’s crystalline blue gaze flicked up from his writing. “Just...don’t do that, okay?” Robbie lowered his voice, twang a ghostly whisper as he leaned in conspiratorially. “You can keep ‘em. I won’t tell. Come on. Please, O’Brien.”

“I don’t do drugs.” Conan replied stiffly, cognizant of the clenching and splaying of Robbie’s anxious fists and wondering if he should step back from the solid, wrathful man in anticipation.

Fingers tapping on his thick thighs, Robbie clenched his teeth, sharp jaw popping as his words implored. “Please, man. I...I can’t go down there again. Isn’t there somethin’ I can do? You can have half the cash in my commissary. Come on! Fuck!”

“Calm down, Wheadlan.” Maintaining a soft voice, Conan inched his heels back, avoiding Robbie’s stormy blue eyes. “You have nothing I want. It’s only two days. You’ll be alright.”

Nose flaring, Robbie scanned Conan’s narrow frame as he finished his report, and an idea formed, his expressive brow arching in challenge. “Maybe…” Pink lips a pout, Robbie rested back on his heels, touching his tongue to his rounded teeth. “You wanna watch me play with my dick for a bit. Huh? Then can I stick around?”

Conan froze. Blinking at the dusty floor, the cords of his freckled neck worked in alarm before his voice eked out even higher than usual. “Why...why would I want that?”

“Dunno…” Vast shoulders shrugging and chiseled features smug, Robbie almost shimmied and Conan resented the heat invading his pallid cheeks. “Maybe you wanna see me get off before you’ll let me off. Just seem like the type, I guess.”

Robbie scratched a big hand over his stubbled face and Conan timidly ticked his chin from side to side, hardly daring to murmur. “I’m not…”

“Oh really, darlin’?” Taking a risk, Robbie swiveled in, patrician nose sniffing in Conan’s direction and catching a whiff of Irish Spring as he extended his fingers, stopping inches short of Conan’s freckled forearm. “Because I think--”

“Back up, Wheadlan.” Touching his nightstick, Conan followed his own order, shuffling away from Robbie in fear. “Just...don’t...I…”

Seeing Conan’s flustered state, Robbie held up his palms defensively and strolled back, disarming grin decorating his wide mouth. “No pressure, honey, just…” Robbie’s slightly smaller left eye winked and Conan erupted in goosebumps. “Offer’s on the table, is all.”

Conan squirmed. Swallowed. “Just…” Crumpling the paper from his notebook, Conan turned on a heel, muttering hastily as he left the cell. “Just...you don’t have to go. Whatever. Fine.”

Slamming the bars shut, instead of walking to the next cell, Conan rushed back around the corner, slumped against the wall as he let out a shuddering exhale.  _ What the fuck was that? _

Though no stranger to the occasional inmate flirting, their passes previously took the form of jeering taunts designed to make Conan uncomfortable. Kissy faces and dirty phrases slung haphazardly as Conan did his rounds, nothing more. 

But this… Robbie seemed serious. And Conan didn’t like the glint which inhabited the murderous man’s alluring cobalt eyes. Didn’t like how the gravel of Robbie’s voice rolled around the chasm of his mind. And Conan especially didn’t like how his heart hammered and his cock twitched beneath his uniform as he took a deep breath before circling the long way around to reach the next prisoner in line.

Conan was aware of this proclivity, noticed himself noticing men from time to time. The inclination proved troublesome in his last relationship, suspicions simmering in Conan’s girlfriend when she followed his wandering eyes.

And, though reluctant to admit it even to himself, this wasn’t the first time Conan’s body reacted to Robbie, either. When assigned to observe the men during yard time, Conan watched, mouth filling with saliva as Robbie worked out. Powerful arms hoisting into the air, again and again and again, before rising from the bench, uniform plastered to his built chest and heaving with effort. 

In retrospect, perhaps Robbie caught him looking, Conan thought. Picked up on the lustful glimmer in his cerulean gaze as Conan watched him circle the track, entranced by how his shapely legs carried Robbie around and around with a grace Conan’s lanky body could never hope to accomplish.

Conan finished his rounds efficiently, mind fogged and steps carrying him back to the guard’s station at the end of his shift with eyes averted from his colleagues.

As Conan failed to fit all 6’4” of his frame over his unreasonably small bed for he-didn’t-know-which-night in a row, the Texan town jeered at him with harsh weather, a lack of friends, an absence of direction as he closed his tired azure eyes and inhaled a sorrowful breath.

Conan shifted uncomfortably, aggrieved by his insubstantial window air conditioning unit as he flopped the sheet off of himself and told his brain to stop, to sleep.

But Conan’s mind never did obey in that regard, constantly whirring at hyperspeed whether he wanted it to or not. And tonight apparently, his thoughts were focused on none other than the smirking, seductive Robbie.

Robbie’s voice, smoke curling in a darkened room as he whispered words Conan could never admit he yearned to hear. His arms. How did the man get so damn big? And so...hairy. Conan couldn’t fathom why all that dark hair, particularly the tuft poking free of Robbie’s unbuttoned collar, sent tingles over his gangly, freckled body. But, regardless of his understanding, Robbie’s fluffy chestnut pelt did. Everything about Robbie did.

Cock straining beneath his boxers, Conan sighed in defeat as his long fingers inched down his little belly. Taking himself in hand, Conan stroked, telling himself he wasn’t going to think about a prisoner while he touched himself, not Robbie. No. Anything else. Not that. Not him.

But as his mind sifted through other possibilities, previous sexual encounters, other scenarios he usually found tempting, nothing did the trick. Conan’s blue eyes flicked open in the darkness, staring at the ceiling as his wrist stilled.

Surrendering, Conan’s lids fell closed once more as he returned himself to Robbie’s cell. Perhaps it was only his imagination, and Conan knew the men all used the same basic prison-issue soap unless an unlikely gift from a visitor was approved, but Conan thought he remembered Robbie’s scent as being...different, from the others. Unctuous. Woodsy. Rugged.

Conan pulled the notes of Robbie’s smell over him like a blanket, bones aching for the weight of the broad, violent man atop him as he paused to lick his palm before feverishly yanking his large cock. Rolling over, Conan humped the tight circle of his fist with abandon, whimpering face down in the pillow, panting hot and urgent. Conan thought of Robbie’s huge hands crawling roughly over his body. Rounded teeth sinking into his freckled flesh without apology. 

And as Conan’s mind summoned the fantasy, Robbie pounding into him as he tore at his tangerine tendrils, drawl a valley of erotic command as he uttered,  _ ‘Cum for me, darlin’ _ ’ Conan couldn’t help but obey, staining the sheets with pulse after pulse of sticky white liquid as his tall body shivered and he called Robbie’s name into the empty room.

Flipping over, Conan scooted away from the expanding spot of moisture, wishing he could escape the shame growing over his conscience like a glutinous mold with the same ease. Conan curled onto his side, and though he willed his thoughts elsewhere in the interim before sleep, Conan’s dreams were laced with cobalt eyes belonging to a man accused, gaze condemning Conan with their forbidden knowledge.

***

Switching to his week’s worth of night shifts for the month came with challenges no matter the time spent at the Neal Unit. Regardless of how many times he forced his body into unnatural schedule and then veered back toward daylight, Conan inevitably ended up schlumping his extended form down the hallways for at least the first and last days of the change, coffee gripped loosely in an exhausted hand as he did a beleaguered circuit of the prison.

Conan’s boots reached the G4 unit and his steps faltered. Avoiding Robbie forever wasn’t an option. Doubling back, Conan tossed the dregs of his cup into the trash before his fingers reflexively checked his fly, his buttons, until they stuttered to a stop around his hairline.  _ Why are you worried about what he thinks? He knows what you look like. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Just let it go. Just do your job. Nothing is going to happen. Just walk on by. _

But as Conan’s passed before the bars of Robbie’s cell, every fiber of his being striving to project indifference, his slender limbs ground to a stop like a wind up toy someone forgot to twist. 

Robbie peeked up from his book, tongue running over his teeth within his mouth. “Hey there.” He kept his voice low as he set his story aside and sat up on his bunk. In truth, he tracked Conan’s progress through the unit for the last hour or so. The man’s footfalls were distinctive. Even when fatigued, which Robbie clocked instantly, his skinny body seemed incapable of rest, flitting about from place to place like a discontented hummingbird, never quite touching down, never taking a true break. Always moving. Running. Hiding.

Robbie wanted nothing more than to catch Conan. “So…” Large hands curling over the underside of the bunk, Robbie flexed, preened, as he cooly cast his sapphire eyes up and down Conan’s lanky form. Robbie may have been at a disadvantage in many areas when it came to education, but he knew his strengths, knew himself, and he knew that adding a layer of molasses to his accent never hurt when trying to get someone into bed. “You been thinkin’ about what I said there, O’Brien?”

Conan didn’t react. He also didn’t keep walking, adding himself as another stationary bar in front of Robbie as he gnawed on a thin lip. Robbie stood, hoping he wouldn’t spook the poor man as he strutted to the front of the cage and spoke in a whisper unheard by even the noisiest neighbor in the joint. “You wanna see then?” Two blue embers blazed across the iron and Conan met Robbie’s heat for but a second before he looked away. “I’ll show you. Just…” Robbie swallowed and touched his wide forehead to the bars. “Let me have my weed back. Cool?”

“Oh, I, um…” Stammering, Conan grabbed his wrist with the opposite hand, unconsciously licking his lips. “I’m sorry. I threw it away. Sorry…”

“Oh…” Robbie rested back on his heels, crisp jawline flickering in disappointment as he chided himself for not realizing that, of course, Conan would’ve had to dispose of the drugs immediately when he chose not to file the report. “That’s alright, man, um…” 

One tip of one large finger extended past the boundary between them, tickling over Conan’s freckled forearm and causing every orange hair on his body to stand at attention. “You still wanna see? Maybe...maybe I can bank a favor for later, then? Huh? Sound good?”

“Okay…” Wind barely whispering through the reeds of Conan’s voice as he responded, when he caught sight of the twinkle in the evening sky of Robbie’s eyes, the curl of Robbie’s pink lips, he worried he truly made a deal with the devil. But too late now. Conan’s libido wouldn’t back down as he nodded. “Okay, that...that sounds alright.”

“Well, darlin’.” Rocking away from the bars, Robbie unspooled a handful of toilet paper and lowered the hem of his prison-issue pants before he scooted back onto the bunk, plunging a large hand into the hidden depths of the fabric. “You just enjoy the show, then.”

Robbie unearthed his cock, and even at quarter mast, as he stroked Conan could tell he would soon bear a monstrous serpent which he would willingly let drag him beneath the waves. Apparently Robbie knew of his massive manhood as well, not a hint of self-consciousness or shame in his expression as his huge fist glided up and down, up and down, before he paused and spent an inordinate amount of time lasciviously licking his palm with a long, pink tongue.

Erection screaming beneath his own blue uniform, Conan didn’t notice how his freckled fists suggestively slid over the bars as he gawked, crystalline blue eyes unblinking and drool half a second from spilling over his thin lips.

“Mmm…” A deep purr issued from Robbie as he generously tugged. “You like watchin’ me, don’t you, honey?”

Conan nodded dumbly before looking cautiously over his shoulder. As the only guard assigned to the unit for the night, no other staff members should disturb them, but he could never be too careful. Plus, though Conan figured such things weren’t exactly uncommon, he feared the prisoners in adjacent cells catching on as he returned his attention to Robbie’s jerking.

“Bet you wanna come in here…” Polishing the wide head of his cock, Robbie worked a big thumb into his frenulum as his pelvis rolled. “Touch my dick for yourself, huh, O’Brien?” 

Conan didn’t respond to Robbie, though his lip bitten, chin tilted, eyes narrowed expression clipped at Conan’s gut, flooding him with longing. 

“Mmm...yeah…” Head falling back and sharp jaw dangling, Robbie’s solid chest rose with an ever increasing pace as he yanked, as he imagined. “Bet you’d come in here...get on your knees...let me use that pretty mouth…” 

Robbie’s wrist flashed over his considerable cock, dark brows knit and nose flared with effort. Losing control of his senses, Conan nudged himself against the brutal metal, desperate for pressure, friction, anything against his own leaking erection as he observed in awe.

“ _ Oh fuck! Yes!  _ O’Brien--” With what looked like extreme fortitude, Robbie’s hand stopped and his cobalt eyes flashed open, drunk with lust. “Tell me your first name, baby. Please. Right now.”

“C-Conan.” 

Nearly dropping his cock in surprise, Robbie sat up and blinked. “Did you say ‘Conan’? What...like the barbarian?”

“Well, no, it’s...I’m Irish. Obviously I was born before the movie. It’s just--”

“Doesn’t matter, darlin’.” Robbie cut him off and leaned back, closing his eyes to resume his pace. “Helps all the same. Mmm...yeah.  _ Fuck! Conan! Your mouth, yes! Fuck! Let me cum in your mouth, baby. Please! Fuck, Conan! Yeah! Fuck! _ ”

The noises issuing from Robbie’s broad, writhing body were almost enough to push Conan over the edge. The huffing groans. Moaning his way through the syllables of Conan’s name. And when Robbie ascended into high whimpers, heels twisting over the concrete as he smacked his grouped fingers viciously down onto his pubic bone again and again, Conan inadvertently whispered,  _ “Yes!” _

“ _ Fuck! Conan! Fuck!”  _ Muscular legs flexing as he scrambled for the wad of tissue, Robbie’s left eye twitched helplessly as he soaked the fibers with warm cum, body leaping with the pulses of his orgasm before he deflated. “Oh...oh fuck…”

Of all the erotic sights, of all the illicit speech, Robbie in the minutes after appealed to Conan most of all. Commanding air into his impressive chest, normally smoothed back hair askew, eyes lost in reverie as his gradually softening cock splayed over his little belly, and powerful arms flopped with lassitude, Robbie was stunningly gorgeous. And in that moment, Conan wanted Robbie in a way he couldn’t describe.

“Well, alright then.” Robbie blinked himself alert, tossing the soiled toilet paper in the trash and lifting his pants before he rose. “You remember what I said, O’Brien?” Eyeing him suspiciously as he approached the bars, Robbie pointed at Conan and he offered a sheepish nod before taking half a step away.

A strong arm shot out of the gap, hauling him in, and Conan instinctively grabbed the handle of his nightstick as his tall frame seized with fear. “Hey Conan…” Robbie hooked a big hand around the back of Conan’s freckled neck, bringing him close with a purr. “Come here…”

Mashing their mouths together, Robbie waited until Conan’s brain caught up to his lips before guiding them open, tongue twirling inside with a desirous groan as he slithered down to palm Conan’s substantial cock over the uniform. 

Conan shuddered, and he wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if Robbie purposely held onto him until Conan’s fear fled long enough to let him kiss back, to get his fingers halfway to Robbie’s stubbled cheek, before pushing him away.

“Alright then, darlin’.” Robbie wiped his mouth, but the smirk remained as his dark eyebrows wiggled. “You have a good night, now.”

Trembling, Conan nodded and with a last parting wink from Robbie’s teasing sapphire eyes, his boots flew to the men’s room. Conan worked himself hard and fast, palm over his mouth as he came to prevent himself crying out Robbie’s name. As Conan washed his hands, the stain of regret remained, unsure how this pact with a prisoner would unfold.

***

Most of the guards relished yard duty. Standing around, the prisoners often in good spirits as they let off steam, the chance to be outside. 

Conan loathed the assignment. Slathering himself in sunscreen to avoid the inescapable burn if he were to spend more than twenty minutes beneath the rays, the inmates, his coworkers, everyone mocked him for the smell while Conan hid his aggravation behind shaded aviators.

Anxiety also prompted him with each and every risk the outdoor area provided. The heavy weights in violent hands. The competitive nature of game play between pent up men. The sheer amount of board space and the difficulty in monitoring all the moving pieces. Conan didn’t appreciate the task one bit, and preferred walking the orderly halls, if given the choice.

Much to Conan’s horror, though no one’s surprise, a fight broke out. Between who or over what, none knew. Policy stated anyone in the vicinity was written up regardless, which inevitably led to loud mouthed complaining from those who uselessly proclaimed their innocence since the day they arrived at the Neal Unit.

Lining the prisoners up against the fence along with fellow guards Dobbins and Martins, Conan subdued an irritable young tattooed man before he turned to see Dobbins marching Robbie toward the chainlink.

Robbie locked into Conan’s cerulean eyes, sharp jawline flexing before he slid his gaze significantly toward the exit and winked. The message could not have been more clear:  _ Get me out of this. Now. _

“Hey Dobbins, um…” Conan scratched alongside his carved nose, tucking his thumbs into his belt and looking off into the distance, hoping to appear casual. “I think this one’s good. I saw him. Wasn’t involved.”

“What?” Dobbins chuckled incredulously. “Seriously? You know this is Wheadlan, right?” Pointing at Robbie’s handsome, albeit furious in that second, face, Dobbins raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “This piece of shit probably started the whole thing. How can you--”

“Nope.” Shaking his head, Conan sniffed and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I saw. He was just standing by. Didn’t make any trouble. We can let him go.”

Throwing up a palm in acceptance, Dobbins stepped back. “Alright then. Go on, Wheadlan. Back to your cell.”

Cocksure and carefree, Robbie winked at Conan and resisted the urge to touch as he sauntered past. Back in his bunk, Robbie mulled, contemplating whether escaping the punishment for a simple yard fight was worth using up his favor with the lonely guard.

But, Robbie supposed, with the way Conan’s sky blue eyes latched onto him while he pumped iron today, there would be a myriad of opportunities to get ahead.

As Robbie thought about the possibilities though, a thin layer of acrid guilt coated his stomach. Of course a man needed a hand up within the unforgiving concrete walls, but Conan seemed so...soft. Malleable. Desperate.

Robbie didn’t feel right asking too much of the poor guard. He knew with careful timing, a few exacting tricks, he could make Conan do anything short of helping him escape. Hell, maybe even that if Robbie wound him tight enough. But the idea of torturing someone already undergoing the flagellation of his own mind held no appeal. And besides, as Robbie crossed his ankles and grinned, stretching out on the barren bunk and studying the ceiling scratched with the scrawl of who-knew-how-many previous residents, he liked Conan. Immensely.

***

As Conan proceeded through the prison, it was as if a homing device were sewn into his uniform, alerting him when Robbie drew near. Somehow Conan just knew when Robbie’s broad frame would appear around the next corner, or his smirk waited in the adjoining room.

Passing by the medication line on the way to his lunch break, a familiar heat inched up the back of Conan’s freckled neck before he spotted Robbie positioned elegantly at the end of the queue. 

Conan hoisted the mask of professionalism over his pale face, staring straight ahead as he moved down the hall with measured steps, not too fast, not too slow, never looking at the inmates, much less Robbie.

A large hand struck out, pinching Conan’s tiny ass and eliciting a high yelp. Conan whipped around to see Robbie, chuckling with his tongue to his rounded teeth as he rested back against the wall. 

Painted along the floor on each side were thick yellow lines. Within the center of these lines was the space designated for the passage of employees, and prisoners were meant to cling to the walls of their cage at all times, never crossing unless being escorted to and fro by a guard. 

But Robbie didn’t give a shit, smashing the rules with two taunting fingers. Rage boiling within at the flagrant violation, Conan fisted a hand in Robbie’s beige shirt, hauling him around the corner and glowering. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Conan looked around cautiously, but aside from an old timer mopping the hall a hundred or so yards away, no one was nearby. “You can’t just grab me like that. I’m not--”

“Aw, come on now, darlin’.” Threading his fingers between Conan’s ear and his cap to luxuriate in the fluffy ginger hair, Robbie swiveled his hips forward with a smile. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it. Now I--”

“Don’t.” Swatting Robbie’s hand away, Conan spoke through gritted teeth and witnessed a new emotion in Robbie’s dark blue eyes: fear. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay.” Dropping his sensual tone, Robbie held his palms aloft in complacency. “Okay, O’Brien.” Robbie cleared his throat and dipped in, drawl low and unsure. “Conan, I...I thought you wanted this.”

Conan didn’t know what he wanted. And nights off fantasizing about Robbie, only to come back to work and be confronted with the teasing inmate’s handsome face, weren’t helping. “I just--” Words catching behind his thin lips, Conan released his grip slightly. “Just...just don’t grab me again. Or...I’ll write you up.”

“Oh, I get it.” Embers crackled behind Robbie’s cobalt eyes as the muscle of his sculpted jaw waved in warning. Though a couple inches shorter than Conan, when expanded to the full breadth of his being, Robbie cut an imposing figure nonetheless and Conan placed a cautious hand on his nightstick. “You gonna use me like some kind of sex toy, huh? Watch me jerk off, and if I don’t play nice, I get thrown in the hole. Is that it? Huh?”

Hackles rising and a snarl distorting his pink lips, Conan fought the urge to back up as ferality washed over Robbie’s chiseled features. “No, no, I…” Conan stammered, but Robbie took his collar in a vicelike grip, yanking Conan back with him against the wall. “Then what, O’Brien? Just because you’re in that uniform and I’m in this one, don’t think I’ll stand for that shit. I won’t. I’ll tell you that much.  _ Right. Fuckin’. Now.”  _

Conan shook. Or maybe Robbie’s strong arms were trembling in rage, causing his skinny body to vibrate. Or both. Either way, he licked his lips, reedy voice pleading. “No, Robbie, I...I don’t...I don’t want to treat you like a...a thing.” 

“Then what?” Conan heard the fabric at the back of his shirt tear as spit flew from Robbie’s clenched teeth, his left eye a flicker of wrath.

“I...I...I just…” Swallowing, Conan thought to grab the nightstick, the mace, to call for help. But he couldn’t hurt Robbie. Couldn’t get him in trouble as he took a deep breath. “I just like you, okay! I’m sorry!”

Tension fled Robbie’s built frame as he studied Conan’s terrified, earnest expression. Realizing he held the taller man up until his toes dangled over the floor, Robbie lowered his arms, swallowing hard. “Do you...know the utility closet? On G3? Tucked around that corner there?”

Conan blinked in confusion. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well, um…” Robbie scratched his rough cheek, glancing around and seeing no one. “The camera there...doesn’t work, so... Some of the guys...use it for...you know…” Drilling into Conan with voracious blue eyes, Robbie didn’t blink. “You wanna meet there?”

Long fingers fidgeting, Conan gnawed at a slivered lip. Robbie saw the nerves, the hesitation, and saying nothing, gently wrapped a hand around Conan’s freckled forearm.

Conan fell still. “Okay.” Bobbing his head slowly, Conan indulged himself and leaned into the warmth of Robbie. “Okay. Yeah…”

Robbie took Conan’s slender hip, lassoing him in. Artful nose trickling down the side of Conan’s face and electrifying his pasty skin, the gravel of Robbie’s voice smoothed over as he cooed. “What time, darlin’? You just tell me, and I’ll be there waitin’.”

Entranced by Robbie’s touch, a minute passed before Conan could remember his schedule for the day. “Um, um...four? Yeah. Yeah, I...four. I can be there then.”

“Okay…” Kissing Conan’s cheek and leaving a burning spot in his wake, Robbie gave Conan’s little asscheek a hefty squeeze and nodded. “See you then, beautiful.”


	2. 2

A prisoner probably could have escaped right before Conan’s eyes waving road flares in a monkey costume that afternoon, such was his fixation on what might happen once he entered the closet with Robbie. Exercising his usual abundance of caution, Conan scoped the space out in advance. There wasn’t much to be seen. A mop and bucket. Half used cleaning supplies. Wet floor signs.

But, and perhaps Conan’s imagination played tricks, he thought he caught a whiff of sweat. Of sex. Evidence of heated trysts past lingering on the stuffy air.

Conan watched the clock and swore the hands moved backwards as the quaking of his anticipatory limbs climbed higher and higher on the Richter scale. 

Finally, at 3:58, after punching out for lunch and sweeping by twice, Conan paused outside of the closet. Waiting. Breathing.

Conan didn’t want to risk going in first. What if a different man came by and found him there? The humiliation, the questions, would be too much to bear. He also worried someone other than Robbie could be inside, but Conan supposed if that were the case, he could simply write them up for shirking duties or being out of bounds.

But the worst worry of all, a small, niggling voice in the back of Conan’s mind, told him this might be a trap. Too good to be true. Maybe Robbie would laugh at his desperation once he stepped inside. Or worse, attack him, with no cameras and no back up.

Thoughts aswirl, Conan’s passion won the fight as he gripped the door handle and inhaled. 

Darkness. A shadowy outline of a broad body before fingers hooked into the buttons of Conan’s shirt and hauled him inside. “Hello there, darlin’.”

“Hey, um…” Door clicking shut, Conan was suddenly extremely aware of his own breathing in the minuscule space, of the scant distance between himself and Robbie. “Why...why is the light off?”

“Oh…” Twang coating Conan’s bones as it bounced off of the close walls, Robbie’s sizable hand cupped his cheek and his breath hitched. “I thought maybe you might like it this way. Seems to me, and tell me if I’m wrong, here, honey, but…” Robbie plucked the hat from Conan’s head, blindly placing it on a shelf, familiar with the dimensions of the room and Conan heard a mysterious wooden clattering. “I get the idea you haven’t done this much before.”

An unseen nod. Conan wrapped his lengthy fingers around Robbie’s, speaking softly. “No...no I haven’t.”

“Mmm…” Robbie clamped over Conan’s narrow hips with a contented chuckle. “Thought not.”

Spinning around, Robbie pushed Conan back against the wall with a groan, supple lips locating Conan expertly as the entirety of his wide frame gyrated up and around and over, shocking erection brushing against Conan’s slender thigh. 

Robbie licked into his mouth, taking a fistful of the buoyant orange hair as his other hand busied itself with palming Conan through his slacks until his cock stood turgid and ready. “Now…” Murmuring against Conan’s freckled flesh as he peppered a path of kisses to his ear, Robbie ground against him lightly. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I...I…” Conan clung hopelessly to the peaks of Robbie’s mountainous shoulders, thoughts jumbled. “I don’t know.”

“Aw, come on there, honey…” Molding his fingers over Conan’s cock, Robbie skipped the fabric over his beseeching skin with tantalizing intent and Conan gasped. “Tell me. Hand?” Robbie squeezed harder. “Mouth?” A slippery swath by Robbie’s long tongue painted down Conan’s cheek and he shivered. “Mmm...I’d love to fuck you senseless, but...I don’t have any lube here, so…” 

A deep throb of need echoed within Conan at Robbie’s words, but he pushed the thought away for now, considering the impracticality. “Um, I...I just...I just want…” Conan took Robbie’s sandpaper cheeks in both of his large hands and let out a wavering breath. “I just want you.”

“Okay.” Robbie touched a light kiss to Conan’s thin lips as he undid his belt. “Then if you don’t mind…” Unzipping Conan’s slacks, Robbie’s hand worked into the heat below the waistband of his boxers and Conan forgot to breath when his strong grip encapsulated his imploring cock. “I’d like to suck you, darlin’.”

“Yes.” Conan choked out, nodding feverishly. “Yes. Please. Now.”

Chuckling as he briefly fused their mouths before sinking to his knees, Robbie shuffled Conan’s pants down his skinny thighs. “Thought you might like that. Mmm…” Robbie gave Conan a couple of cursory pumps, but then Conan felt an odd, rough texture against his shaft and realized Robbie must be nuzzling his cheek against the side of his cock. 

The thought alone sent a crackle of want over his pallid flesh, and when Robbie’s pink lips kissed the head, Conan tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I, um…” Conan swallowed and adjusted himself against the wall. “Can we turn on the light? Maybe?”

“Oh, I see…” Tickle of a tongue against his frenulum. Conan hissed with euphoric angst. “Somebody wants to watch, huh?”

“Yeah, I...yeah. I wanna see you.” Conan combed his fingers through Robbie’s brunette tresses and Robbie nudged into his touch, eyes falling closed.

“Well alright then, darlin’.” Pulling Conan slowly, Robbie licked noncommittally at his balls and shrugged in the shadows. “Go ahead. Switch is next to you, there.”

The glare of the buzzing electric light was harsh after being accustomed to the cool darkness. Conan discovered the nature of the confusing noise when he first entered, spotting a broom wedging the door shut, but as his eyes adjusted, finding Robbie on his knees left Conan quivering. And that said nothing of Robbie’s expression.

Only one word could describe the look on Robbie’s face before he opened his wide mouth to take Conan down: hunger. 

Tight heat surrounded Conan’s tender flesh and Robbie wasted no time, retracting with incredible suction, slurping without shame. “Oh... _ oh fuck!” _ Conan petted over Robbie’s scalp, sharp chin tucked down as he absorbed the intoxicating sight of Robbie swallowing inch after inch of his substantial cock with apparent ease.

Robbie hollowed his cheeks, which only served to highlight his carved features as he bobbed, long tongue circling the tip of Conan’s huge cock and tasting salt. “ _ Oh Robbie! Fuck! Yes! _ ” Keeping his pelvis to the wall, both of Conan’s big hands burrowed into Robbie’s dark locks, hanging on helplessly as Robbie thrust his head forward with vigor, yanking his fist back in the opposite direction until he kissed his own fingers with a reckless, moaning velocity. 

“ _ Robbie! Yes! Keep going! Please! Please!” _ Skinny legs wobbling, Conan devolved into keening wails as he frantically tipped his pelvis forward, not wishing to overwhelm, but unable to resist the sweet warmth of Robbie’s hoovering mouth.

Robbie studied Conan from below, dark blue eyes wide and unyielding as he let the drool dribble down his square chin. Grasping Conan’s balls, Robbie knew he was close to the precipice and fondled roughly as he hastened his pace.

“ _ Robbie! Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum! Fuck! Fuck! _ ” Conan tapped his shoulder in fear, worried about what Robbie might do were he to reach his end without proper warning as he whimpered and writhed. 

But Robbie ensconced Conan to the root, inhaling his cock ferociously. “ _ Fuck!”  _ Whine leeching from Conan’s thin lips as his face scrunched and his sharp jaw hung, his pelvis juddered forward, draining hot cum into the back of Robbie’s throat as he tore at his silken brown hair. 

“Oh...oh fuck...Robbie…” Conan struggled to stay upright on jellied legs as Robbie popped off with a satisfied smirk, licking his pink lips before standing.

“Mmm…” Clearing Conan’s face of the intrusive strands of dewy orange, Robbie giggled before kissing his forehead. “Seems you enjoyed yourself there, darlin’.”

Breathless, Conan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I...yeah. Thank you.”

“Aw, you don’t need to thank me, baby.” Robbie leaned in, erection bumping Conan’s waist as his lips traced Conan’s crisp jawline. “But if you wanted to return the favor, well...I wouldn’t say no to that…”

“Yeah, I...I want to…” Conan’s long fingers flowed over Robbie’s carved forearm, admiring the smattering of dark hair. “But, um...I haven’t done that before so...so it might not be very good…”

“Aw, honey…” Lining Conan’s lower lip with his thumb, Robbie lifted a vast shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you do will be just fine.”

With a nervous nod, Conan and Robbie switched places and he knelt on the hard concrete. Robbie observed Conan slowly inching down the fabric of his prison-issues, smiling when his baby blue eyes widened as Conan faced Robbie’s massive cock. “Okay, um, just…” Fingers wrapping around Robbie’s shaft, Conan peered up at him placatingly, and the perspective of Robbie staring down in anticipation fueled his resolve. “Just...let me know if I should do anything differently, okay?”

“Alright.” Robbie laced his fingers through Conan’s ginger locks. “Just take your time, beautiful.”

Of all the terms of endearment Robbie tossed about with a casual ease Conan could never hope to achieve, that one hit hardest, and in the second before busying his mouth, Conan quickly muttered, “You’re beautiful, too.”

Sucking fervently on the wide head of Robbie’s cock and tugging the shaft to his lips, after a couple of minutes Conan felt confident enough in his nose breathing and gag repression to work his mouth halfway down Robbie’s considerable length. The delectable groan radiating from above propelled Conan forward as Robbie’s strong hands crawled over his head, hips rolling but conscious of not pushing too deep. “Mmm...fuck yeah, baby. Just like that...suck me…”

Licking his lips, Robbie’s head fell back as he moved up and down the wall, moaning with abandon as Conan sped up. “ _ Yeah! Conan, fuck! Your mouth! Fuck! I love it! You suck me so good! Keep goin’, honey! Fuck! Yeah!” _

The rising sound of Robbie’s rapture kindled a fire in the pit of Conan’s stomach, driving forward until the tip of his cock knocked against the back of his throat. Conan cradled Robbie’s balls, massaging lightly as Robbie’s wide frame curled above, hands snaking down to rub over Conan’s upper back as he panted. “ _ Fuck! Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum! You don’t have to swallow if you don’t wanna. But you gotta stop now then. Fuck! Fuck!”  _

Conan moaned in the affirmative and stayed down, and when the first spurt hit his tongue, hot and salty, he hung on until Robbie shuddered out every last drop with a grunt.

Shapely legs atremble, Robbie puffed out his cheeks, expressive brows high as Conan stood. “Nicely done, darlin’.”

Conan shrugged humbly, rubbing his elbow with the opposite hand. Despite the intimacy exchanged, as Robbie put himself away, Conan felt inexplicably sheepish. “Okay, um…” Looking to the door, Conan nodded. “Will you...check first? Make sure the coast is clear?”

“Sure, but…” Robbie slicked back his hair and smoothed over his shirt. “You need to rush? When’s your break over?”

“Oh, um…” Conan peeked at his watch. “I still have about fifteen minutes.”

Perching himself on an upturned bucket, Robbie gestured to another. “You wanna relax for a minute then? I just…” Robbie glanced around, lower lip jutting out. “I kinda like it in here. Quiet, you know?”

“Yeah.” Conan turned the corresponding bucked over, knees ridiculously high as he crouched down. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

For a moment they sat in silence, both realizing they may have nothing in common besides their desire for one another’s skin before Robbie cleared his throat. “So, can I ask you somethin’?”

Conan opened his palms and shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Why do you work here?” 

Tilting his head curiously, Conan blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just…” Robbie scratched down his stubbled cheek, lifting a broad shoulder. “No offense, Conan, but…” Lower lip stretching, Robbie hissed in a breath. “You’re not the hardest screw around these parts. Why work the Neal? Why aren’t you, I dunno, bagging groceries or some shit like that on the outside?”

“Oh, well…” Rubbing his hands together, Conan shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I started because the money was good. The hours are solid. But…” Nodding carefully, Conan sighed. “Yeah, I...I’ve been thinking about leaving. Applied a couple of other places, so…”

“Oh…” Quiet fell again, apart from the squeak of the plastic below them as Robbie and Conan shifted uncomfortably. “That’s...that’s good.” Robbie rested his elbows on his knees and bobbed his head. “Yeah. Yeah, you should get out. This...this isn’t any place for nice people, so…” Robbie let himself believe the extended pause between them could be attributed to the footsteps heard outside before he continued. “So...do you know what you wanna do then?”

Conan bit his lip, sky blue eyes bouncing between Robbie and the floor. “It sounds stupid.”

“Try me.” Robbie flashed a wide grin. “Who am I gonna tell, anyway?”

Chuckling, Conan nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well…” Corner of his mouth ticking up, Conan scrunched a hand through his orange hair and made a mental note to retrieve his hat before he left. “I...I want to be a...comedian. Actually. So…”

“Oh yeah?” Wry smile and an arched brow, Robbie sat up and inspected Conan with firm arms crossed. “I bet you’re really funny. You got a joke for me there, beautiful?”

“Oh jeez, um…” Conan ran a hand down his face in exasperation. “Yeah...yeah, okay. What does a gay couple say when they tie the knot in Florida?”

Robbie rolled his eyes and sighed. “I dunno. What?”

“Til meth do us part.”

A peal of uncharacteristic giggles overtook Robbie, his left eye shrinking almost closed as his top row of teeth extended and he swayed, nearly tumbling off his bucket as he slapped his thick thigh in mirth. “Oh damn, you know…” Recovering, high titters continued to sneak out between his pink lips and Conan couldn’t help but beam. “I know some gay dudes from Florida who might cut you for that one, O’Brien.”

“Hey.” Conan held up his hands defensively. “I’m just a clown with a bad orange wig. I can’t be held accountable.”

Robbie laughed before standing and holding out a hand. “Well, if anyone does try to fuck with you…” Grasping his fingers, Conan got to his feet, losing himself on the dark, sun dappled sea of Robbie’s eyes. “You know who to call.”

“Thanks.” Conan grinned, replacing his hat and checking his fly and buttons.

Stopping before he unblocked the door, Robbie turned back to Conan, looking to the dusty floor. “If, um...if you get one of them other jobs…” Breath held, Robbie blinked and his knuckles whitened around the handle. “It...well, it wouldn’t be the same around here without you, is all.” Robbie cupped Conan’s cheek, swooping in for a brief kiss before he twisted around and peeked outside. “Okay...all good. Come on.”

Motioning for Conan to follow, once the utility closet closed behind them, Conan and Robbie split in separate directions with no more than a shared nod. But even though their paths didn’t cross for the rest of the day, Conan’s mind swirled with thoughts of Robbie, his body, his words, until long after he clocked out and went home.

***

As Conan neared Debra’s desk, handing over his lunch bag, the tiny tube of lube and singular condom burned an accusatory hole in the pocket of his work slacks, panicked that of all days, today he would be pulled aside for a surprise pat down.

Thankfully no such incident occurred and, after tucking his meal safely in the fridge, Conan took a detour from his assigned station among the G2’s and scurried to Robbie’s cell.

Absorbed in a novel, a third ‘psst’ was necessary before Robbie’s head poked up from the pages with a grin. “Hey there, darlin’.” Marking his place, Robbie swaggered up to the bars, immediately wrapping his fingers around Conan’s with an audible sigh. “How’re you doin’ this fine mornin’?”

“I’m good. Hey so, um…” Annoyed by the need to speak quickly, Conan looked over his shoulder and saw Dibbons three quarters of the way around the floor. “So I brought...something. If you want to...yeah.”

A dark brow lifted and Robbie eyed him quizzically. “What?”

“I brought…” Lowering his voice to the shadow of a whisper, Conan touched his forehead to the bars, lips hardly moving. “Lube. And a condom. If you want to…”

“Oh…” Pink lips a pout, Robbie squeezed Conan’s hands and hummed appreciatively. “Hell yeah. What time, honey?”

“Does...does three work? That’s when I get off, but…” Conan gnawed at his lower lip. “I’ll just punch out, and then double back. It should be okay…”

Robbie molded himself to the bars, inhaling Conan’s essence and touching sly kisses to his chin, his nose, his lips. “Mmm...yeah. That’s when you’ll be gettin’ off alright, baby. Sounds good. Meet you then.”

“Okay. Sorry, I...I have to go.” Sliding back, Conan saw a flash of something difficult to define cross Robbie’s handsome face before he released his hands.

“I know you do, beautiful. Don’t apologize. Run along, now.”

Conan wanted to dip in for one more kiss, but Dobbins’ steps grew frightfully close, so he resigned himself to a hasty wave before scuttling out of sight.

***

Perched against the wall, Robbie possessed neither watch nor clock, but was pretty certain he timed the walk from the rec room to the closet correctly. And though his mind may have lied in his eagerness, Robbie figured at least twenty minutes must have passed by now.

And still, no Conan. Robbie couldn’t comprehend why this washed him in a searing disappointment which left his big hands fisted at the pressure behind his eyes. Robbie could fuck almost anybody. Hell, Robbie did. But he looked forward to the encounter with Conan all day.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Robbie fantasized about being inside of Conan before the skinny, nervous man ever approached his cell that morning. In fact, his thoughts moseyed to the ginger guard many a night before Conan ever unearthed the drugs in lockdown.

Robbie wasn’t sure why he found Conan so appealing, exactly. He liked redheads. Well, redheaded women. On the outside. He knew that much about himself, at least. But there was something else about Conan which proved irresistible.

Maybe his movements. Ever since the slender wisp of orange started bopping his way through the halls of the Neal Unit, Robbie tracked him like a hound scenting blood on the air. Frankly, he would’ve expected Conan to pick up on his interest were he not so damn afraid all the time. But Conan was obviously preoccupied with the monsters in his own mind, and therefore took little notice of the flesh and blood ghouls surrounding him in the concrete house of horror.

And so Robbie watched. Listened. Learned. Maybe in the free world Robbie’s behavior would be deemed intrusive. Stalkerish. But prison is mind-numbingly boring. Choosing to keep tabs on a cute guard, as long as his hands stayed to himself, well, Robbie figured that wasn’t so bad.

When he initially came through, Robbie heard Conan mention a girlfriend. Even strolled past a conversation concerning a possible engagement. Surprised, as Robbie clocked him as queer instantly, when no further murmurs of a wedding floated past, and he spotted no ring, Robbie wondered, waited.

Conan developed ‘the hunch.’ A term Robbie privately used in his mind to describe those guards broken by the weight of the job. But Robbie suspected more than schlepping inmates and dealing with the headaches of breaking up fights could be blamed in Conan’s case. The light which originally adorned his pasty, freckled being simply snuffed out. Robbie worried. Said nothing. Did nothing. 

How could he? Robbie and this guard, this Conan, were not friends. Aside from a few necessary words exchanged, Robbie figured Conan didn’t know he existed beyond the number printed on his uniform. It wasn’t as if he could strut up to Conan and ask, “Hey man, what’s wrong? You seem a little down lately…”

So when the opportunity for a connection presented itself, Robbie jumped, perhaps a little deeper than he should have, in retrospect. But, and Robbie loathed to admit the fact even to himself, he was lonely. Though he considered himself exceptionally lucky to have an old timer for a roommate who caused no trouble, they had nothing in common, and Gray Chuck certainly wasn’t lover material. Sure, Robbie entertained his share of trysts in the showers, and ever since he entered Neal (particularly since his hair grew back after the shave down) he was inundated with softer men slinging their wares, applying for his affections and protections.

And over the years, Robbie tried with a few. Some were satisfying. In one way or another. But no deep joining of personhood came. No long term solace in the heart and body of another. No love.

Except John. Robbie shook his head violently, pang of remorse, of hurt, zapping through his broad body. Two glorious years. Two years he and John were cellmates, when they were meant to have a lifetime together.

But then John got a better lawyer. An appeal. A judge who understood what John did was self-defense. 

Robbie didn’t like to think back on those final weeks they endured. The false smiles. The tiptoeing. John bursting with joy at the prospect of freedom, but at the same time, afraid. Though Robbie plastered his face with jubilance, honeyed his speech with congratulation, John knew. And he worried what would happen when he left Robbie alone to rot in the cage.

With good reason. That day Robbie watched John being escorted out of the prison, tender kisses and thoughtful goodbyes. 

Until John disappeared around the corner. And Robbie hammered his fists into the hateful concrete. Screaming, screaming, screaming. Until three guards rushed in to stop him destroying his lovely hands.

At first Robbie didn’t write John back because he couldn’t, fingers unable to grip a pen and unwilling to ask one of the other men to jot down sweet nothings to fill the pages. But by the time his bones mended, he chose not to reply because Robbie decided he shouldn’t. John deserved freedom. Deserved a real life. Deserved a real man who would love him on the outside. 

And so Robbie removed John from his phone list, wouldn’t allow him to visit. Any letters that came in, Robbie threw away. But he couldn’t bring himself to part with the one photo John mailed in his first week of fresh air, slender body nude and stunning, a smile for Robbie to remember always.

Robbie absently twisted the ring on his finger. His wife, Abbi, was aware of his proclivities toward men. Maybe not in totality, but she understood the need, being as Robbie served life without possibility of parole. Sometimes the guilt Robbie experienced when he thought about his indiscretions made him nauseous. But he couldn’t survive on a diet of phone calls, letters, and the rare conjugal visit.

And, Robbie realized as the years flitted by with ever-increasing speed; touch, sex, with other men inside wasn’t enough, either. Robbie didn’t want to just fuck. Even in the real world, he learned at a young age that didn’t fulfill his needs. Robbie needed to be held. Wanted. Cherished.

But, sighing heavily as he gave up on Conan arriving for their rendezvous, Robbie accepted that choosing a guard as his object of desire was supremely stupid. 

Fingers falling on the handle, Robbie’s eyes widened in alarm when the door yanked him halfway into the hall. “Whoa!”

“Oh, sorry!” Colliding with Robbie, a flustered Conan looked back and forth to ensure they weren’t seen before securing the hat on his head. “Sorry I know I’m late. The warden, he...he wanted to--”

“Doesn’t matter.” Snagging the front of Conan’s uniform, Robbie hauled him in with a needy growl. “Come on.”

Slamming him back into the wall with such force three bottles of cleanser leapt from their shelf, Robbie claimed Conan’s mouth with a vengeance as the door shut, gritty chin chafing as he swirled his tongue inside. “I...I didn’t think you were comin’.” Pawing every inch of Conan’s lanky frame he could reach, Robbie dragged his rounded teeth over the sensitive skin of his freckled neck and Conan gasped in relief.

“I’m sorry…” Conan swallowed, kneading over Robbie’s firm arms, his vast shoulders as he tucked into his warmth and scraped his lip over his cheek. “I...I didn’t mean to make you wait. I--”

“Doesn’t matter.” Robbie repeated, his broad body a wave of elation as he ground Conan into the plaster, fingers moving toward his belt. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. Just please…” Taking a fistful of Conan’s tangerine tresses, the syrup of Robbie’s voice froze and cracked as he clenched his eyes, pink lips glued to Conan’s ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“Yes.” Conan breathed, cock stiffening beneath his slacks. “Fuck. Yes. Please, Robbie. Fuck me.” 

Robbie flipped him around, raising Conan’s arms and pinning his wrists to the wall as he thrust his erection into the crack of Conan’s tiny ass through their layers of clothing. “Oh fuck...yeah…” A deep groan issued from Robbie as he swiveled faster and faster. “I can’t wait, baby. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good…” 

Cheek flattened and breath labored, Conan licked his thin lips as he bore back against Robbie’s weight. “The, um...the lube. And condom. It’s...it’s in my pocket.”

“Okay...okay…” Robbie paused to take a breath and wipe his high forehead, delirious with excitement as his big hands rifled through Conan’s slacks, fingertips brushing his begging cock before he discovered the necessary items. “Alright, darlin’.” Dropping to his knees, Robbie worked down Conan’s pants and boxers, massaging his way up Conan’s dancerly legs before touching a scratchy kiss to his asscheek that made Conan smile. “This your first time?”

Craning his neck back, Conan avoided Robbie’s gaze and responded in a sheepish whisper. “Yeah…”

“Okay then. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna taste you and use my fingers for a while. Trust me. It’ll make things better. Wait…” Robbie looked to the blocked door, dark brows gathering. “How much time you got, baby?”

“I...any. It...no one knows I’m still here. I don’t think…” Conan nodded.

“Well alright.” Robbie slapped his little ass jovially, and when Conan squealed, Robbie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good deal. I like to take things slow.”

Large hands opening Conan with a contented hum, Robbie’s tongue swiped over his lips before his sturdy jaw nestled between Conan’s small cheeks. Conan reflexively tensed before acclimating to the sensation. But once he did, the rasp of Robbie’s sandpaper cheeks, the buzz of his greedy moans, and the lapping of his slippery tongue left Conan bewitched.

“ _ Oh Robbie! Oh fuck! Yes!”  _ Conan bent his knees, lip bitten as Robbie swirled past the tight knot of muscle with abandon. 

Retreating with a slurp, Robbie pinched Conan’s cheek and kissed the glow of pink left in his wake. “You ready for some fingers, honey?”

“ _ Yes! Please, fuck!” _ Nodding exuberantly, Conan reached back to caress Robbie’s strong arm as he squeezed out some of the lube, warming his hands before applying the sticky liquid to Conan’s hole. 

Though no stranger to playing with his own prostate, Conan never experienced someone else at the task, and with his long, thick fingers and advantageous angle, when Robbie plunged inside, Conan’s toes curled and a sound broke from his thin lips, the likes of which he never heard before.

“ _ Yes!” _ Conan cried, palms flat to the wall as he drove himself back onto Robbie’s sizable hand. “ _ Fuck! Yes! That feels so good!” _

Looping a slick palm around Conan’s hip, Robbie delicately tugged his straining purple cock as he tamped his fingers ruthlessly inside, nuzzling his cheek to Conan’s ass. “Mmm...yeah. You like that, don’t you, darlin’?” Rounded teeth sank into Conan’s pillowy flesh and he gasped, unable to tell whether he wanted to thrust into Robbie’s warm fist or fuck himself down on his fiddling fingers as he started to whimper. “I could make you cum just like this, huh? Couldn’t I, baby? I know how to treat you right.”

“ _ Oh fuck! Yes! Yes!  _ Robbie…” Conan seized his wrist, forehead smearing over the wall as he panted. “Stop. Stop or you’re going to make me cum, and I…” Swallowing, Conan guided Robbie’s hand away from his leaking cock. “I...still want you to fuck me. If you want to…”

“Oh hell yeah.” Hopping up, Robbie lowered his beige pants, tugging himself a couple of times before he rolled the condom down and glopped fresh lube over Conan and his cock. Wide head poking Conan’s entrance, Robbie stopped, two fingers gently turning Conan’s chin back. “Conan?” Voice soft, Conan stepped onto the calm shores of Robbie’s oceanic eyes. “Are you ready, beautiful?”

Covering Robbie’s hand with his own, Conan grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Okay.” Robbie fused their lips together, petting tenderly through Conan’s hair before he murmured. “You need me to stop, slow down, whatever. You just say so, alright, baby?”

“I will.” Conan ticked back to kiss the corner of Robbie’s mouth and nodded. 

A pair of powerful arms coiled around Conan, hugging him to Robbie’s built chest. The tip of his nose rooted around through Conan’s ginger locks, across his cheek, until Robbie captured his lips with a needy whimper. 

Conan didn’t understand. Robbie’s cock notched into the cleft of his ass, condom on and both ready, and yet he continued to hold him, to kiss him, grasping Conan’s narrow frame. Too tight.

“Robbie…” Conan broke away with a gasp and squeezed his muscular forearm. “I...I’m having trouble breathing…”

“Oh sorry.” Releasing instantly, Robbie’s cobalt eyes ricocheted off the cramped walls in shame as he rubbed consolingly over Conan’s back. “Sorry, I...yeah. Are...you still wanna? Are you ready?”

Nodding, Conan interlaced his fingers with Robbie’s left hand, wondering if the gesture was safe, wanted as he peered back with hopeful azure eyes. “Yeah. I do. I’m ready.”

“Alright.” Silent for a moment, Robbie swiped the tip of his cock over Conan’s opening before pushing forward into the tight heat. Conan splayed and hissed, Robbie pausing to massage the small of his back in concern. “You okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah.” Conan blinked against the stretch, taking a breath and adjusting. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

Disappearing into Conan inch by inch, Robbie halted whenever he sensed Conan might need a break to become accustomed to his girth before he sheathed himself to the hilt with a groan. Joined hands curling around, Robbie crept under Conan’s shirt to feel the warmth of his slender chest against his forearm as his free fingers enveloped Conan’s substantial cock.

“You ready for me to move?” Robbie planted a kiss to the nape of his speckled neck and Conan nodded, reminding his body to relax, to calm, as Robbie rolled away at the same time his fist curled up the length of Conan’s shaft.

Robbie gradually developed a languorous rhythm, coaxing Conan to the heights of pleasure within the bonds of his body. “How’s that, honey?” Supple lips skipping across the line of Conan’s sharp jaw, Robbie exhaled over his pale skin as he moved inside with patient passion. “Does that feel good? Huh?”

“Yes…” Arching his spine, Conan’s eyelids fluttered when Robbie’s cock glided past his prostate as he steadily jerked. “So good, Robbie... _ fuck!” _

“Mmm…” Robbie bent down, flicking his hips in the upstroke to better tap Conan within as he licked the edge of his seashell ear. “Fuck, baby...you feel so damn good. I’ve wanted you so fuckin’ bad…”

Despite the haze of lust, Conan blinked and looked back, faint orange brow aloft. “You have?”

“Of course.” Robbie nipped at Conan’s earlobe as he embraced him closer, pelvis quickening. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy, Conan. Damn... _ fuck!” _

Couldn’t couldn’t remember anyone calling him sexy. Ever. At least not seriously. And he wasn’t used to being wanted. In fact, Conan suspected many of his previous girlfriends considered sex with him somewhat of a...chore. Though perhaps he was projecting in that regard, as he wasn’t strongly attracted to them and spent the majority of the time denying his feelings for men.

But regardless, for someone to hunger for Conan, especially someone like Robbie, so confident, so suave and smooth, shook the bedrock of his self-loathing and poured a molten lava of confidence into the cracks, Conan settling into a man who maybe, just maybe, could believe himself worthy of attention.

Robbie sped up and Conan hooked an arm around his barreling waist, wanting him impossibly closer, deeper, as he tossed his head back, enthralled. “ _ Oh Robbie! Robbie, yes! Fuck me! Just like that! Please! Fuck! Don’t stop!” _

“I won’t.” Robbie inhaled the sweat of Conan’s wan flesh, tempering his movements as he clapped against his ass and yanked his beseeching cock. “I got you. Cum for me, beautiful. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum so fuckin’ bad. Come on now, baby.  _ Cum for me. Cum, Conan! Come on…” _

Mouth agape and skinny legs shaking, Conan leaned back and Robbie rapidly bounced him on his massive cock in his final moments, rattling high whimpers out of Conan as his eyes rolled. “ _ Fuck! Fuck! Robbie! I’m gonna cum! Yes! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” _

Threads of thick white spattering over the wall, Conan violently constricted around Robbie with a shivering whine. Robbie dropped Conan’s cock, strong arms embracing him fiercely as he hastily pulsed within the restrictive warmth. “ _ Oh fuck! Conan! Baby, yeah! Fuck! Gonna cum! Fuck! Yeah! Conan! Fuck! Yeah! Fuck!” _ A grunt tumbled from Robbie as his muscular legs almost failed to keep him upright while his pelvis hopped, fingers digging into Conan’s pale skin with every throb of his rapture.

Flesh damp and gulping oxygen, the two remained connected as Robbie pressed uncoordinated kisses to Conan’s neck, rolling his forehead back and forth over the collar of his blue uniform. “Fuck, Conan…” Robbie exclaimed, kneading his slender hip. “That...you were damn good. Mmm...thanks, darlin’.” Scooping Conan near, Robbie sought his air-starved lips, kissing Conan gently before he extricated himself, tying the condom in a knot, hidden in his pocket to dispose of elsewhere so as not to make the amorous location overly obvious to the staff.

In his abundance of politeness, Conan couldn’t help but utilize the cleaning supplies on hand to spray down the wall, wiping the cum away with a paper towel. Robbie found this idiosyncrasy endearing and offered to help, but Conan declined, steeling himself as he rose and buckled his belt.

“So, I, um…” Conan glanced to the broom locking the door and inhaled, tense. “I...I got a different job…”

Were Conan brave enough to look at Robbie in that moment, he would’ve seen the light leave his twinkling blue eyes. “Oh.” Cords of his neck standing out in agony as he swallowed and nodded, Robbie shifted his weight to the opposite foot. “Oh, that’s...that’s good. Where...where you headed, then, man?”

Conan noticed the absence of endearments tagging Robbie’s sentences and blinked. “It’s a comedy club.” Pausing, Conan’s voice evaporated as he studied the dusty floor. “In...in Dallas.”

A wave of heat flashed over Robbie’s skin. His first instinct to shout, to punch. But if prison afforded Robbie one thing, it was time. And in that time, though perhaps he didn’t realize it about himself, Robbie truly did become a better man than the one judged guilty for that hotheaded crime all those years ago.

Robbie learned. Not only academically, which he did a great deal of during his downtime, but he learned about himself, his mind. How to take a minute. Breathe. Slow down. Calm. Though an arduous process, Robbie taught himself how to contemplate possible consequences, and in the thoughtful silence stretching, that’s precisely what Robbie did before clearing his throat and painting his face with something he hoped resembled a smile. 

“Good for you, man.” Robbie nodded. He thought about reaching out to offer Conan a squeeze of the arm, a pat on the back, but he couldn’t. Even the idea made him ache. “That’s great. I’m...I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks…” Conan bit the inside of his cheek, still unwilling to meet Robbie’s eyes, unwilling to examine the sting in his own. “I...I was thinking...maybe I could still work here one day a week. You know...commute, maybe…”

Sharp jawline popping as he gritted his teeth, Robbie shook his head. “No.”

Peering up at the razor blade in Robbie’s tone, Conan studied his stern expression. “No? But...I...I want to…”

“Don’t do that.” Robbie sighed heavily, crossing his firm arms. “You...I know how much you fuckin’ hate it here, alright, and, um…” Fighting to keep his voice steady, Robbie scratched a hand over his face to disguise his sniffling, tucking his square chin down. “So...don’t. Just go. And, yeah. You’ll do good there, and, um...you know what they say…” Robbie lifted his head, sapphire eyes glittering with a crooked, goofy grin. “If you put one foot in yesterday and one foot in tomorrow, you shit on today. Don’t do that to yourself. Alright, darlin’?”

Chuckling in spite of himself, Conan blinked rapidly and bobbed his head. “Okay, um…” Conan put his hat back on and took a step toward Robbie, chest constricting when Robbie flinched away. “Could I write to you? Maybe?”

Twang dampened, Robbie directed his response to the shelf. “I guess you could…”

Looping a gangly arm around Robbie’s plush middle, Conan molded himself against his broad frame, two rivulets trickling down his pale cheeks when Robbie didn’t hold him back. “Would you write me back?”

The shattered note of need in Conan’s voice caused the seas of Robbie’s eyes to hit high tide as he whispered into the skin of his freckled neck. “I would…”

“Okay.” Conan embraced Robbie for what felt like a long time, until he synced to the rise and fall of his solid chest and he hastily wiped a wrist across the moisture on his face behind Robbie’s broad back. “Um, thank you. For...for everything.”

Nostrils wide and nodding, Robbie didn’t trust himself to speak. Conan hesitated, then dislodged the broom and started to leave.

Robbie yanked him back, taking Conan’s face in both of his huge hands as he met his thin lips for one last salty, trembling kiss. “Thank you.” Breaking away and face flooded, Robbie hurriedly snatched the knob, opening the door to Conan’s future without him and suppressing a sob. “Good luck, beautiful.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also accept requests!


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